At the gate, to which Shatov accompanied her, she added to him alone.
“You’ve given me something to laugh at for the rest of my life; I shan’t charge you anything; I shall laugh at you in my sleep! I have never seen anything funnier than you last night.”
She went off very well satisfied. Shatov’s appearance and conversation made it as clear as daylight that this man “was going in for being a father and was a ninny.” She ran home on purpose to tell Virginsky about it, though it was shorter and more direct to go to another patient.
“Marie, she told you not to go to sleep for a little time, though, I see, it’s very hard for you,” Shatov began timidly. “I’ll sit here by the window and take care of you, shall I?”
And he sat down, by the window behind the sofa so that she could not see him. But before a minute had passed she called him and fretfully asked him to arrange the pillow. He began arranging it. She looked angrily at the wall.
“That’s not right, that’s not right.… What hands!”
Shatov did it again.
“Stoop down to me,” she said wildly, trying hard not to look at him.
He started but stooped down.
“More … not so … nearer,” and suddenly her left arm was impulsively thrown round his neck and he felt her warm moist kiss on his forehead.